


I don't pretend (to know the ways of the world)

by evepolastri



Series: villaneve but they ran off together and they’re happy [1]
Category: Killing Eve (TV 2018)
Genre: Domestic, Domestic Fluff, Eve’s perspective, F/F, i guess?, its really hard to grasp their dynamic and it’s breaking my brain, its supposed to be domestic, or villanelles character, relationship, set after 2x08, still don’t have a grasp for the tone, the more I think about it the uncleared everything gets, they fled to somewhere in middle/south america
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-21
Updated: 2019-05-21
Packaged: 2020-03-09 07:21:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18912229
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/evepolastri/pseuds/evepolastri
Summary: set after 02x08 before the release of 02x08:Villanelle and Eve had to flee after everything that went down in Italy - and now they enjoy their first day in a house, miles away from society/neighbors/citiestitle: When A Woman Is Around by Unloved





	I don't pretend (to know the ways of the world)

**Author's Note:**

> as I said in the tags I started writing and the more I thought about it the hazier everything got and I don’t have a real grasp for V tbh
> 
> I hope you’ll enjoy nonetheless

The first day in their new house is tranquil. It‘s something neither her nor Villanelle have experienced in a long time or maybe ever. 

All they’ve been doing since they have had breakfast is spending time together on the terrace behind the building, basking in the sun. 

Eve never questioned how the assassin knew of the building in the first place and how they have access to it and she quite frankly doesn’t care either. As long as no one finds them. 

“I’m tired”, Villanelle declares before passing out, using Eves legs as her custom pillow. Her honey-golden hair spreads everywhere while the heat is toasting their skin, and though this scenario should be hell it somehow isn’t. 

As Eve’s staring at the pages in front of her, strings of words written in a language she definitely doesn’t understand and one hand tangled in the assassin’s locks, she realizes that she’s never been truly at peace before now. 

There’s always been this voice in her head, telling her that she’s not like the rest of them. That there’s something different about her. 

Eve is allowed to be herself for now and never before has she felt this _alive_.

* * *

They‘ve been running for days, from one country to another and buying various tickets to various places. Eve can’t recount how many planes she boarded and how many miles they were driving in cars they eventually abandoned for other ones along the road. 

“Where do we go from here?”, Eve remembers asking, desperation lacing and cutting off her voice. 

They have nowhere to go. 

She killed someone, is all that’s going around in her mind. She killed someone. They have nowhere to go. She killed someone. 

And Villanelle smiled at her, she recalls it clear as day. A genuine smile, full of adoration, full of love. 

“Wherever you want to go, Eve”, she told her. And if Eve wasn‘t sure that there were _romantic_ feelings involved, from either side, she knew then at the very latest. 

The way her name fell from the assassin‘s tongue, like a well-guarded secret, a deeply buried treasure. The way she pronounced it, like only the agent, well _ex_ -agent she supposes, was allowed to hear it.

From there on out everything is a blur. Villanelle muttered something about “lucky she got passports made that Konstantin doesn‘t know about” and “enough cash for a year”. 

The blonde’s head on her shoulder. 

Sleepless nights. 

Hitchhiking. 

Kisses. Soft and rough and needy and desperate. 

And touching, touching, touching. 

All Eve is sure is about is that they’ve been on the run for days, not stopping long enough to get acquainted to anyone, miles away from their next neighbors, from society, from anyone.

They got rid of their phones, too.

All they need is each other.

It’s them. Eve and Villanelle against the world.

* * *

The older woman carefully reaches up to her head and with the hand that’s not holding the book, she pulls the sunglasses out of her hair. They’re stuck in her unruly locks and as she tugs on them, she startles the sleeping woman. 

When she finally gets them untangled and puts them on her nose, she checks to make sure that Villanelle is still resting. 

She hoped not to wake the slender body but yet she did. 

“I’m sorry”, she apologizes in a hushed voice. 

“No”, the younger woman whines, “don‘t stop, Eve. Please.” She blindly searches for Eve’s hand and after she can’t find it she turns to face her. “Please, touch my hair more. You‘re doing it way better than the boy at the hotel. He was too rough.”

Eve‘s hand stops mid air. “Do I want to know?”, she poses the question more to herself than anyone else.

Jealousy.

‘There’s no one around here’, Eve tells herself.

 _’I’m not with them when I’m_ with _them.’_

“I thought I had to kill you. I was sad”, the assassin explains nonetheless. “I cried all day.” She pouts.

“You would’ve never gone through with it.”

“You don’t know that, Eve.”

Eve‘s thumb slowly strokes the younger woman‘s cheek. “Did I ever tell you that you‘re cute?”

She laughs as the blonde‘s face scrunches up. “I am not cute. I am the world‘s best assassin. I am intimidating.” Eve leans closer, pretending to search for the intimidating side of Villanelle.

“Mm, no, don’t see it. You’re like a puppy”, she declares after falling back against the cushions. She closes her eyes, feeling the heaviness of Villanelle’s head and the slight wind turning her skin into Braille. 

Her hand reaches back into the blonde strands as she gets lost in thought. 

It feels like she knows the assassin. From her extensive research and the encounters to where they are now. 

But Eve is well aware that she doesn’t. She knows what she’s read and what people told her. 

_’Hate is an emotion she knows.’_

_’Look at Anna.’_

_’They’re unpredictable.’_

_’Cold-blooded killer._

_’Psychopath.’_

But she doesn’t _know_ her. The Villanelle with hopes and aspirations. The one who wants to feel things. 

_’I feel things when I’m with you.’_

“Oksana”, Eve clears her throat and as she opens her eyes she’s face to face with the deadly killer. “Vill, I -“, she doesn’t know what to say. How to voice her concerns. Her desires. 

So instead she pulls Villanelle closer until their lips meet in a sensual kiss that leads to Villanelle straddling her lap and them making out. 

The blonde’s arms are hanging loosely around Eve’s shoulders while Eve is gripping Villanelle’s waist tightly, the book discarded on the floor, long forgotten. And their making out only interrupted by the giggling of the younger woman. 

“Is this -“, it seems like she’s trying to find the perfect words but seemingly not being able to grasp them before they skip away again. “This is too much.”

Villanelle lets her head fall into Eve’s neck and Eve can feel the vibrations of her laughter in her whole body. 

“It’s like my whole body is on fire. I never even felt this after killing someone. Eve”, she’s searching for Eve’s eyes behind her sunglasses. “Is this how you feel all the time?”

The older woman shakes her head because she’s known the answer long before the question was posed by Villanelle. 

“Only when I’m with you.”


End file.
